The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1887-01-28
THE MINISTER'S NEPHEW.

There was always mud-splash to be
cleaned off the lower founce Of her dress,
a hole to be darned in her shawl, missing
scarf to be accounted for.
II wish were man." said Lita linen
are never bothered about their clothes
''NIen have to look decent, | suppose, :"
said Grandmother Allan, scathingly.
ooh, but it isn't such dreadful trial to
Them said Lita, tossing her gloves around
in the vain search for a pair that would be
mates.
The pair could not be found; so Lita
went to church with her hands under her
shawl, and skunk guilty into back seat
directly under the organ gallery, where
she could hear the sweet tone of the music
and see everybody without herself being
seen.
II should like to have had a respectable
pair of long wristed tan gloves" thought
Lta, ''and sit up i'll front, because the
new minister is to preach, and should
like to get some sort of an idea of him.
AZ ""H ~ N'thhiiEs biiS
clusters of lamps around the wooden pill
lars outfacing the seven stars in the July
heavens, the heated atmosphere Of the
church contrasting unpleasantly with oeca-
sonal whiffs of wild-rose scented air from
the outside world.
And, late as Lita was, she had the salts
faction OF knowing that there was some
one even more tardy than herself. A pleas
ant looking Young man, with clear, hazel
eyes, hair waved lightly at the ends, and a
not unbecoming suspicion of the sunburn
on his face, was presently shown into the
pew by the cross old sexton, who affected
entirely TO ignore its other occupant.
perhaps he really don't see Inc" said
Lita to herself. ''fIe is growing binder
every day, poor old fossil, and one glass of
his spectacles is cracked clear across
And Iita looked at the cross old sexton
with the gently contemptuons pity which
is natural tribute from blooming, dimpled
eighteen toward white-haired eight-and-
sixty.
Now Iita was very pretty, with her
blue, laughing eyes, fringed with long.
thick lashes, like curtains; cheeks as red
as the sweet lliams in the church yard;
and bright brown hair, threaded with
changing CLEANS of red-gold, which grew
so thick that hair-pins would scarcely
keep it up, and it had to be fastened in its
place under Lita's hat by an antique shell
comb. studded with little balls. which had
been worn by Grandmother Allan when
she was young girl.
And the other person in the pew, chanc-
ing to look that way, thought what a
lovely vision she was!
''The ideal village maiden he said to
himself, with such a sweet, sanity look
in her eyes, too. 1t makes one think Of
Longfelow's poem:
Her face is like the angels,
And her heart is pure as they
| wonder who she can be?"
While Lta, darling an occasional glance
at him from beneath the silky awning of
her long lashes, thought:
''Who is he, anyhow Most likely one
of the travelling statesmen from the Eagle
Hotel, or perhaps a book agent or light
ning-rod man."
Alas, how keenly would handsome
Frank Dewey's pride have felt these care
less comments could he have known their
nature.
And then she left off troubling her head
about him and settled comfortably back in
the corner of her pew, yawning now and
then as the bald-headed, elderly preacher
gradually lost himself among his ''sev-
entities" and ''eighthlies."
But all of sudden Lita's eyes sparkled.
She whisked pencil out OF her pocket,
and began slowly to sketch something on
the fly-leaf Of her hymn book-for this
wicked little sinner was just enough of an
artist to be able to jot down some simili-
tude OF whatever took her capricions fancy.
And as she drew, with her book safely
hidden under the projecting moulding of
the pew rail, her companion stretched his
neck curionsly forward To see what she
was about
"a touch of nature makes the whole
world kim, says the poet; and l.ita tipped
the book so that the unknown could catch
a glimpse of her mischievous work.
1t was the old preacher himself-his
Roman nose slightly exaggerated, his bald
head given perhaps an undue preponder-
ance but still the old preacher-so comic
ally rendered that the unknown COULD not
but smile behind his heavy brown mus
tache.
She looked archly at him; he nodded I'M
perceptibly, and, taking the pencil from
her hand, added one or two touches-in
themselves insignificant, but giving mar
velous character to the sketeh--before he
gave it back.
All of sudden the old nan reverently
closed the manuscript leaves of his sermon,
the choir burst out into sweet and sim
pie hymn and Lita remembered where she
was blushed to the very roots of her hair,
dropped her hymn-book in her consterna-
ton and CROPPED blndly for it on the floor.
"What have been DOING" Lita asked
herself.
And she tore out he offending fly-leaf
and thrust it down to the very bottom of